Sullied
by Futago no Seishi
Summary: Ryou is a young prostitute with an abject past and present, and Jou is the young man that becomes enamored with this beautiful boy so reminiscent of a porcelain doll. [Yaoi, Jou x Ryou]
1. Part One: The Encounter

**Pairing:** Jou x Ryou  
**Genre:** AU, angst, romance  
**Rating:** R  
**Words:** 2316  
**Part:** 1 of ?  
**Dedication:** Again, for LilPurplFlwr, because this is our little pet pairing.  
**Warnings:** Yaoi, prostitution  
**Summary:** Ryou is a young prostitute with an abject past and present, and Jou is the young man that becomes enamored with this beautiful boy so reminiscent of a porcelain doll.  
**A/N:** I wrote this at the end of summer 05, well more than half a year ago, and I never got around to finishing it. I'm starting to work on the next parts, and hoping that my inspiration/will won't fizzle out before this piece is finished—because I've developed a fondness for this piece and don't want to see it die an unfinished waste.

**Sullied**

Part One: The Encounter

"What's your name?"

The words simply drip. They slither off his tongue like thick, luscious honey, tainting the senses and inflaming the nerves. It is the voice of a whore, seasoned and sullied—not the voice of a young boy, like the one standing before him.

His hair falls over his eyes in spiked strands, some reaching down to tickle the plush rose petals of his mouth. A sharp canine protrudes from between the flesh, and the boy grins slightly as he digs his thumbs into the paltry jeans that cover his hips, gloriously low as to display the jut of his hipbones. His foot is propped against the brick wall, hips pushed forward, and his body screams to be ravaged.

"What's it matter to you?" he replies, keeping his voice flat.

His eyes slit seductively, lashes fluttering coquettishly against the pale curve of his cheekbones before he shrugs nonchalantly. "Come on, handsome," he purrs, "I just wanna know, is all."

A pause, then: "Jounouchi."

"Jounouchi," the boy reiterates, tasting the syllables on his tongue and letting the name spin through the cavern of his mouth. "Nice to meetcha, Jou." He smiles then, head tilting to the side to display the pallid column of flesh that is his throat. Jou can't help but stare as he swallows, watching his Adam's Apple bob up and down beneath the thin layer of skin and flesh.

"And, you; what's your name?"

The boy's smile widens and he chuckles softly beneath his breath, the sound sensual and, at the same time, melancholic. "How about we just focus on you, cutie."

Another couple exits from the club via the back alley passage, giggling foolishly and clutching at each other. They wobble with each step and reek of alcohol. He watches them absently as they stumbled off to a nearby car, no doubt planning to celebrate the night in a most unwholesome manner.

The boy shifts backwards, blending into the shadows and simply disappearing. Jou can scarcely see him, but for his outline that flashes repeatedly with the light that escapes from the club entrance before the door falls shut once more.

"How old are you?" he asks next, clutching his jacket closer to him. It is chilly outside, and he can only imagine what goose bumps must have arisen on the other's skin.

The boy pushes off from the wall at this moment, moving out of the shadows and into the dim lighting of the sputtering street lamp. Jou stands still as he comes closer, but as arms wrap swiftly around his shoulders, he realizes he can't breathe.

"As old as you want me to be," the boy murmurs into his ear, fingers toying with the strands of hair lying at the nape of his neck. A slight shiver crawls down his spine as the other's nail drags across his skin, and he has to turn his head away lest he do something he regret.

He only realizes how malnourished the boy is when he presses up against him. At that proximity, he can see the dips beneath his eyes and his sunken cheeks and how dreadfully pale he seems. Curious to know more, he lifts a hand and presses it against the boy's side, feeling the ribs pushing against his palm. The boy stiffens minutely before relaxing, head dropping down onto his shoulder and humming softly.

"You're fourteen, aren't you?" he murmurs into the boy's ear, hand now resting on the sharp dip of the boy's waist.

"If you want me to be," is all the reply he receives before soft lips brush against the suddenly sensitive skin along his neck.

He stands for the longest time in the alley with the boy wrapped in his arms, staring at the dim flicker from beneath the door to the club and musing on what he should do. The boy has taken to slowly decorating his neck with little kisses—so frail, like the brush of a butterfly's wings against his skin, and it is terribly distracting.

"Come on," he says finally, pulling away and taking a hold of the other's wrist. It is all hard bone beneath his hand, and he wants nothing more than to feel it plump up with proper flesh.

The boy tilts his head up, eyebrow arching delicately as a wan smile spreads across his lips. "And just where are you taking me?" he asks nonchalantly.

"You'll see," Jou replies as he tugs gently on the wrist in his hold. The boy holds his ground, however.

"I don't come cheap, you know."

Jou, who has turned his head and is looking for where he has parked his car, turns back to eye the boy momentarily. When he is met with hooded chocolate eyes, he smiles slowly and shrugs a bit, playing along with the whole façade. "How about we talk about this afterwards."

The other chuckles softly, flicking hair out of his eyes before shrugging dainty shoulders. "Whatever works for you, cutie." And with that, he proceeds to fall into step next to him, walking as if he belonged at Jou's side.

The car ride is spent in silence. Neither feels that it is appropriate to engage in idle conversation any longer.

The boy merely stares out of the window, head leaning against the cool glass and breathing so soft it seems as if he were dead. His hands twine with each other on his lap, twisting and twisting until they are merely a jumble of sinews and bone so that Jou can barely tell where one begins and the other ends. Otherwise, he stays perfectly still, a pretty porcelain doll against the dark leather interior of his car.

However, he does move when Jou brings the car to a stop.

"Huh?"

The engine dies softly, a soft metallic purr before the silence creeps back up upon them. Jou pulls the key out of the ignition and drops it back into his pocket before turning to eye the young boy at his side. "Get out."

"… We're at a restaurant."

Jou smiles softly and nods a bit, moving to get out of the car. "I know."

Seeing as Jou has shut the door on him, the boy is forced to leave the vehicle in order to speak to him. Once he enters the cool night air again, he promptly shivers—but the action is covered as he sensually wraps his arms around himself and slides his palms up and down the skin of his arms. "So what exactly is the meaning of this, huh, Jou?"

Jou makes his way around the vehicle, lifting a hand to touch his finger against the other boy's chin, tilting his face up with gentle pressure. "I like to treat my dates to dinner before anything else."

A slender eyebrow arches as the boy regards him curiously. "Do you always do this with all the whores you pick up?"

"I don't know. I guess I'll have to tell you after I pick up another."

The boy regards him for a moment before shrugging silently in agreement to the current arrangements. Jou smiles once more before walking to the entrance and opening the door, holding it open until the other boy passes through.

The restaurant, a fairly cozy deal, is quiet as they enter. Seeing the late time, it isn't unusual for the lack of hustle and bustle. The waiter eyes the boy oddly for a moment before nodding and leading them to a table near the back, secluded and hidden partially in the shadows. With the way the boy sags down with a soft sigh in the plush seats, it seems as if he is glad for the darkness—then again, perhaps stares aren't always kind.

They eat mostly in silence. Initially, the boy merely picks at his food, as if afraid to take a whole bite—as if it will make him undesirable if Jou sees him eating like a normal human being. But when Jou refuses to touch his own food unless he does, he loses his timidity and manages to finish the whole plate of ravioli in record time. He does blush charmingly, however, when Jou chuckles at him from across the table.

Jou will never utter this aloud, but he thinks that the way the flush spreads up from his neck and across his cheeks is extremely attractive. It lights up the pallid expanse of his skin and brings a warmth to his features that was previously dormant.

Eleven o'clock sees them back in the safety of Jou's car, speeding down the surface streets once more.

When they arrive at the hotel, the boy silently gets out of the car without any questions or complaints. He merely smiles coyly at Jou from across the hood of his car before walking confidently towards the entrance to the building, the blond trailing behind him. The hotel is lavish, but not exceedingly so—the lounge is filled with armchairs and little tables fit to carry expensive cocktails.

The boy looks appreciatively around as Jou arranges proper rooming with the clerk at the front desk. After a moment a considerable sum is removed from his wallet. Slipping his wallet, the leather soft from years of use, back into his pocket, Jou nods and grabs the keycard.

"Come on."

The boy blinks a bit as he turns around, smiling and ignoring the odd look he is getting from the clerk. "What room are we?"

Jou begins walking towards the elevator, strides long and languid, as he speaks. "Six thirty-two. It's a balcony room."

The elevator doors part with a swish of turning gears, and the boy merely chuckles as he steps onto the red carpeting of the moving cubicle. "Not like the view will matter much."

The hall is dim—mood lighting, Jou assumes—as he counts down the numbers. One after the other they pass gilded doors with pristine number plates impressed upon the wood. Six twenty-six, six twenty-eight, six thirty—

"Here's ours," Jou speaks quietly as he slides the keycard through the slot. The light turns green with the sound of a click, and he pushes the door open easily. The dark corridor leading to the bedroom looms before them, quiet and still.

The boy waltzes in flippantly, turning on the lights as if he's been inside these generic hotel rooms a dozen times—and it is depressing to think that he mostly likely has.

Jou closes the door quietly behind himself and slips off his coat, dropping the article of clothing down onto a nearby chair. "I'm going to the bathroom. Make yourself comfortable."

The boy nods absently as he plops down on the bed, the mattress jolting beneath his sudden weight and bouncing slightly with a quiet creak. Raising a brow, he bounces on the bed in experiment once more, listening to the creaks, a lazy grin spreading across his lips. "Why do I feel like they gave us this bed purposefully?"

Jou merely chuckles as he disappears into the bathroom. In a matter of moments, the shower turns on.

The boy flops back on the bed, sighing as he stares up at the ceiling. But seeing as his sleeping conditions, on a normal basis, were less than satisfactory, his exhaustion soon catches up with him, and he falls asleep to the soothing thrum of running water.

-----

The boy blinks a bit, rubbing at his eyes as he sits up on the bed. The windows are still open, and the dark sky spreads out before his eyes, dotted with the fluorescent buildings of the city. Outside, it looks dreadfully superficial and fake—a cityscape of metal buildings and plastic smiles and trodden hearts. As he stares at a glowing billboard, he feels terribly dirty.

Which is odd, seeing as he didn't even take off his clothes tonight.

Fine brows crinkle in confusion, and the boy turns to glance around the room. The bedspread is rumpled where he has been lying, but the other side is perfectly unmarred. And Jou is nowhere to be found.

"Jou?" he tries tentatively, ears perked and awaiting an answer. All that he receives is the dull thrum of silence.

Sighing, he drops back down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling and contemplating his situation. Here he is, a street whore in a hotel room, untouched and customer for the night missing in action. It's something he certainly isn't used to.

After a moment, he sits up again, intent on heading to the bathroom and taking a shower. If he is in a luxury hotel, he plans to take advantage of it; the grime and grit on his skin suddenly feels tenfold worse. But as he is pushing off of the mattress, he notices a sheet of paper lying on the bed stand which he'd overlooked previously.

Curious, he picks up the sheet, eyes skimming over the neat script quickly.

_Dear Whoever You May Be,_

_I'm terribly sorry for leaving you, but I have my reasons. The room and board has been paid for, for the time of three days; so, please, enjoy your stay. It would be a waste of money for you to leave. I've also left a hundred dollars in the top drawer of the bed stand. You know, for food expenses or whatever you may need._

_I'd love to talk to you again, and I'm still dying to know your name. Call me if you wish. If you decide not to, it was nice meeting you. I must say it was a rather interesting experience._

The boy eyes the phone number written beneath the signature for a long moment. Promptly dropping the letter, he opens the drawer and sure enough, there is the neatly folded bill, sitting atop the hotel notepad.

Thinking about it all, he can't help but laugh.

Outside, the stars fade in the fluorescent glow.

**-TBC-**


	2. Part Two: Nothing More

**Part:** 2?  
**A/N:** Most of this chapter is old; I just can't figure out what to do with it any longer. It's kind of been sitting on my hard drive as I try to fix it, but to no avail. Not much delving into the lives of the two boys, yet; this is still establishing the start of their convoluted relationship. More on Jou's history and such in the next chapter. Sorry, **Nobodynow**, for the long wait without many answers. I do believe the answers to the questions you were wondering will appear in the third part. And since this is AU, I decided that Jou came from a rich family—but he's a fairly typical teenage boy, still.

**Sullied**  
Part Two: Nothing More

He arches against the bed sheets, body taut as a drawn bow and face flushed a soft rose. A thin layer of perspiration clings to his neck, falling into the dips above his collar bone like so many hidden gems.

He's beautiful as he comes, tremor overtaking his body, and it's hard to believe he's only fifteen.

A series of quiet pants leave his parted lips, gusts of warm air that further heat the skin of his customer's chest. He groans as he falls down from euphoric bliss, hands clutching tensely at the other's arms—a mockery of a lover's impassioned embrace. For in a second, his fingers unfurl and his hands drop to the soft sheets beneath, and once more he is a pretty porcelain doll.

The man above him hums softly as he withdraws from his body, and somehow the sound is so irritating it almost makes him forget about the sharp pain between his legs with that slight movement.

"That was amazing, sweetheart," the man croons into his ear, and he has to resist the urge to make a derisive sound at the name. What he does instead, rather, is smile coyly as he licks his lips softly, leaning closer and running his lips along the other's stubble-covered jaw.

"Mm, glad you had fun."

The older man moves away after a few moments, reaching down and rummaging in his discarded clothing. He emerges with a cigarette and sticks it between his thin lips before offering one to him. He politely declines, merely watching as the other lights up and internally cringing at the smell.

He nonchalantly watches the other, hand tracing invisible patterns on his skin. After a few minutes, he quietly inquires, "And my pay?"

The other makes a noncommittal noise before taking out his wallet and removing a crisp hundred dollar bill, throwing it across the bed towards him. It lands by the lump beneath the sheet that is the curve of his knee, and he plucks up the folded bill, checking it carefully. Once he discerns that it's not counterfeit, he hides it in the soft folds of his palm protectively.

He decides it's time to take his leave when the other smokes quietly for a few moments, and he rolls out of bed. He collects his crumpled clothes from the floor and dons them once more, futilely trying to smooth out the creases—as if he could purify his looks; as if it would matter at all.

"I'll be going now. It was fun." The lies slip out of his mouth as smooth as water, as it's so easy to forget that he's lying halfway through.

"Yeah, it was. Maybe I'll see you around, cutie."

He smiles mysteriously as he opens the door, standing in a frame of light—a dark shadow against a bright backdrop. "I doubt it," he says. And with that statement, he shuts the door softly behind himself.

He stands for a moment outside the door in the brightly lit motel hallway and wants to scream.

-----

It's been three weeks since he met Jou.

He stands in the phone booth, hands thumbing the old letter and eyes skimming cautiously over that neatly-penned phone number. The edges of the letter are worn and dog-eared, and he is almost embarrassed to admit to himself how often he has perused this letter.

He can recite the phone number perfectly by now, and his fingers itch to dial.

His hand lifts to the phone, and he nearly picks up the receiver. It hovers there for a moment, and he is unsure of what to do before he drops it once more.

The letter is pocketed for the fifth time, and off he goes on his nightly route.

-----

"Hello?"

The cell phone is cool against Jou's face, and he yawns quietly as he sinks back down on the sheets. The clock reads 1:39 am, and he can't imagine anyone that would call him at this hour.

"… Hi, Jou."

The voice is soft and hesitant, yet flows with a graceful quality that he can't attribute to anyone he knows. Yet it sounds dreadfully familiar, and he thinks for a long moment; but it doesn't come to him.

"I'm sorry," he starts off quietly, the roughness of sleep still caught in his throat, "but who is this?"

A soft chuckle makes its away across the line before the caller speaks. "The boy you left in the hotel."

Oh.

He doesn't realize he's spoken aloud until the other chuckles softly on the other line, and he is rather glad the boy isn't there to see the blush rise on his face. "I mean, hi. Wow. I thought I'd never hear from you."

"I'm sorry I never called earlier."

He smiles softly into the covers, staring up at the ceiling as he listens to the other boy speak. "Nah, I'm just glad you decided to call at all."

A short stretch of silence follows, before a single word is murmured softly.

"Ryou."

Jou blinks a bit at the name, the sound unfamiliar. "Excuse me?"

"That's my name. Ryou."

He mouths the syllable on his lips, focusing on the way his lips shift as they form the consonants and vowels of the simple name. "Thank you for telling me."

Ryou is silent on the other line, and for a while, Jou merely lies there listening to the soft breath sounding through the receiver. He sighs silently, and wonders whether he should be so brash as to ask his next question. But eventually, temptation (and curiosity) wins, and he parts his lips to speak.

"Would you like to meet me sometime, Ryou?"

A slight pause, then: "I'd enjoy that."

At that moment, Jou is inexplicably happy that he stumbled upon the club those many nights ago. He had been in search of a place to merely lose himself—to let himself disappear amongst the gyrating bodies and drown in the scent of alcohol; to allow himself to escape from his own inner demons, which had been proving more difficult to restrain as time went by. He didn't expect to encounter much that evening aside from sleek bodies and momentary escape—but much to his pleasure, he found more than he bargained for.

He smiles despite himself, rolling over in the covers and burrowing further in, wrapping himself in cotton warmth. "Where should I pick you up?"

They decide to rendezvous at the club where they first met. Suddenly, Jou wishes the weekend would come sooner as the line falls dead, and he is left with Ryou's haunting voice ringing in his ears.

-----

The club is thrumming with energy, and Jou can feel it weaving through his bones and singing his nerves with a restlessness that can't seem to be sated.

He sits in a booth near the bar, sipping his soda (three more years until he's legally able to consume alcohol) absently as his eyes anxiously scan the crowd. He searches for platinum, but all he finds are gyrating bodies and pulsing beams of light in all the hues of the rainbow. The light dances across the floor, casting an otherworldly glow over the energized dancers, adding to the electricity of the night.

The music pounds in synchronicity with his heart, and he wonders whether Ryou will come.

But as soon as that thought drifts from his mind, there arrives the boy in question. Jou sees him drifting along the mass of dancers, lithe body slowly slipping between the moving bodies. He looks so pure between the darkly dressed clubbers, and somehow, it seems oddly ironic.

"Ryou!" he calls out above the loud electronic beat, watching as that silver head turned in his direction.

Ryou makes his way over to the booth, the heels of his boots clacking softly as he approaches. He is dressed casually in tight jeans and a mesh shirt, showcasing the svelte beauty of his body—and Jou is terribly embarrassed of the thoughts that initially jump into his mind at the sight of the other boy.

"Hi," he says, attempting to regain composure—take a sip of soda, smile casually.

"Hey, you," the other calls over the music, sliding smoothly into the booth and easing up besides him. He reaches out a slender hand and drags the cup over towards him, wrapping his smooth lips slowly around the cylindrical straw, lashes fluttering shut. Jou thinks that the club is considerably more humid as Ryou's cheeks cave in slightly as he drinks the carbonated beverage.

Ryou is smiling at him, and he realizes he has been staring.

"Find something interesting?"

"Yeah, I do." he finally answers, sliding off of the seat and turning towards the dance floor. "I was wondering, would you dance with me?" he asks, extending one hand out to the younger boy.

A thin eyebrow quirks before it is followed by lush lips curling teasingly. Ryou takes his hand and together they migrate towards the mass of dancers, soon blending in amongst the crowd. Heated bodies push in on them from each side, and before he knows what's happening, Jou finds himself pressed firmly against Ryou.

The boy smiles softly and loops his arms around his neck, pulling Jou even closer as he starts to sway his hips gently to the pounding rhythm.

His movements can be described most precisely as fluid. The rotation of his hips are seamless, a loose figure eight traced in the air with the jut of his hipbones. His back twists like a preying snake, and Jou can't help but be mesmerized by the movements of the body beneath his hands as the bass resounds in the concave caverns of their chests.

Ryou's hair tickles the sensitive skin of his neck, and Jou buries his nose into the strands as Ryou moves intimately against him.

Sweat has begun to form on their heated skins by the time Ryou pushes him off of the dance floor. They stumble clumsily across the club before Jou finds his back shoved firmly against the door leading outside. But before his trembling hands can grasp the handle, Ryou's lips are against his, and he forgets just what he is supposed to be doing.

The kiss is heady, almost bruising in its force, and it mesmerizes him completely. Each swipe of Ryou's tongue against the flesh of his lower lip forces an electric current down his back, and he responds in like by nipping at the boy's delicate lips. Before he knows just what he is doing, he finds his hands slipping beneath the net-like material clinging to Ryou's slender frame.

When the boy moans weakly against his mouth, Jou suddenly finds himself mortified.

With a startled sound, he drops his hands and pulls sharply away from the kiss. His lips tingle guiltily, and he stares at the confused expression on the other's face.

"Ryou—"

"I want you," the boy interjects amidst his plea. Pearly teeth emerge to worry on his flushed lip, and he glances rather seductively up at him. "Don't you want me?"

Jou rakes a hand through his hair and sighs, unsure of just what to say. He finally opens the door behind him and motions for Ryou to step through, the other doing so warily. The cool night air rushes in to glaze over his skin, and he unwittingly shivers as he lets the door shut behind him, standing in the dingy alleyway.

"In answer to your question: yes. I do want you; so much it hurts, in fact." But as Ryou opens his mouth in reply, he places his fingertips against his lips, stroking the soft flesh absently. "However, I'd feel terrible if I used you."

It is Ryou's turn to sigh, and he nips teasingly at Jou's fingertips, causing the other's breath to catch lightly in his throat. "You aren't using me if I want it as well."

"Ryou," he starts, shifting his hand to cup the curve of the boy's cheek, "listen to me. I don't want just a fuck from you."

Silence stretches between them, and Ryou's expression closes completely, leaving him to wonder just what the boy is feeling. When he next speaks, his voice is so frail and childlike, it reminds him of just how old the boy is—and he feels terribly dirty for taking advantage of such a youthful body.

"Then… what do you want from me?"

Jou smiles softly at the question, dropping his hand from the boy's cheek. "Your company and nothing more."

-----

Early next morning, Ryou watches the sunrise.

Intently, he watches as the sky transforms from a muted indigo into an indistinguishable color—something between a pale lavender and white, with a dash of blue in the mixture, and all tainted grey. He imagines that the sky is a canvas, and somewhere far away, there is an impatient artist, fed up with his colors—and he has splattered them all into one messy combination, his brush smearing the many hues into one.

He can see the impatience of the morning, dueling with the weakening night for domination over the slumbering world. And as the growing rays of light begin to seep in through his window, casting shivering shadows over his measly excuse of a bed, he thinks of Jou.

He can't seem to stop thinking about the blonde's words. They roll around endlessly in his mind, darting in between his thoughts and distracting him to the point where he can't even find respite. He can't make sense of them; they're turning his world upside down. They go against every principle he's held to be true, and he has to wonder what's false and what's not.

Jou said he doesn't want him for sex.

That is the first time in Ryou's young life in which he has heard those words. Ever since he was forced to fend for himself and his dying father, all that people wanted of him was some easily gained release—an outlet to explore their kinks before they return home to their unknowing wives. No one else has ever expressed any interest in him aside from that.

Yet here is Jou, smiling softly and saying he wants to just be with him.

A quiet sigh escapes his lips, and he tilts his head down, hiding in between his bony knees. He knows that he needs to get up and go to work at the market like he always does every morning, but he can't seem to move. All that he is able to do is wonder whether Jou really cares for him or not and sort out his own emotions towards the young man. Ryou thinks that Jou will be his demise, but for the present time, he'll enjoy it while it lasts.

Outside, the light of the sun is obscured by a misty fog, and his clock reads 5:49.

**-TBC-**


End file.
